


Look at Where You Are (Where You Started)

by just_another_classic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, daddy killian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:53:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_classic/pseuds/just_another_classic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the birth of his and Emma's daughter, Killian and Regina commiserate about how far they've come on their personal journeys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look at Where You Are (Where You Started)

**Author's Note:**

> This season is pretty angsty, so here's Killian and Regina trying not to get too sentimental over a baby. (And totally failing.)

The few times Killian has been in Storybrooke’s hospital, it was always a hustle of bodies running about to wage their own battles with death. Of course, every time he was here, some sort of crisis was embroiling the town, setting the hospital staff on edge. Tonight, however, the hospital is quiet, a sense of calm enveloping the halls.

 

Or maybe it isn’t calm.

 

Maybe the hospital is just like every other time he’s been before and he’s surrounded by a cacophony of raised and worried voices of the wounded and their physicians. Killian hardly knows at the moment, attention instead focused on a room that he is not allowed to enter, only observe, a wall of glass separating him from the object of his desires: the small infant sleeping in the third bed from the left in the hospital nursery.

 

She’s wrapped in a pink blanket patterned with tiny ducks and wearing a matching hat that obscures her tiny tufts of dark hair. Her swaddled form is laying in bassinet that does not look as comfortable as she deserves, especially an infant of her station, but Killian can briefly forgive the hospital nursery if only for the small sign signifying her parentage – the name “Jones” scrawled across the pink label in large block letters.

 

She’s his. _Theirs,_ he mentally corrects thinking of Emma, his heart bursting with barely concealed awe and love. The labor had been blessedly quick and uneventful – “a first for the family,” Dave had remarked in the aftermath, his voice filled with unconcealed relief. There’s a small bit of guilt that tugs at Killian for leaving Emma asleep in her hospital room, but he is unable to draw himself away from the partition separating him and his daughter.

 

He wants to hold her. He doesn’t quite understand this realm’s insistence on separating a infant from its parents for long periods of time – something about allowing the mothers to sleep, he thinks – but since pregnancy and childbirth isn’t a near-death sentence here, he chooses not to protest. Much. Still, he doubts anything or anyone can stop him from keeping a brief vigil over her.

 

She looks so peaceful sleeping here, he thinks. It’s difficult to believe that hours ago she entered the world screaming. Even the nurses commented on the strength of her tiny lungs. Killian felt a tiny surge of pride when he heard that compliment, not that there should be any surprise that the child of the Savior wouldn’t be strong. Still, his daughter’s tiny cries broke his heart a bit, a wave of protectiveness overcoming him at the thought of anything causing her stress or discomfort. He’s quickly beginning to understand Dave a bit more, not that Killian will admit it to the prince.

 

A shuffling and a series of whispered statements break Killian out of his reverie. He turns quickly, body tensing and ready for a fight to see Regina moving behind him, hands raised and a light glow emitting from her fingertips. He raises an eyebrow in question when he sees her, body relaxing at the sight of his ally and friend.

 

“You’re losing your touch, Guyliner,” she teases, after she finishes whatever incantation she had been performing.

 

“As you can see, I have reason to be distracted,” he responds, titling her head toward the glass wall separating them from the babies. “And just what were you doing behind my back, Your Majesty?

 

“Casting protective wards,” Regina responds with a dramatic roll of her eyes, her tone indicating that her answer is far too obvious to warrant questioning. And maybe it as, but Killain’s still too distracted to give too much thought to anything outside of the sleeping infant. “It’s a good thing I am, it seems, considering all it takes to fell the dreaded Captain Hook is to put an infant directly in front of him.”

 

“ _My_ infant,” Killian counters, not particularly offended. There is a certain in delight in saying those words – the sense of belongingness that it evokes. “If you haven’t noticed, she’s clearly better than any of the other lot here.”

 

Regina hums, and Killian doesn’t know if it is in agreement or if it’s an attempt to hold back whatever biting statement he knows she has locked away. The former Evil Queen walks forward to stand by his side, their shoulder not quite touching as they take in the sight of Storybrooke’s newest residents. She presses her fingers to the glass, and there is a momentary glow. Another protective charm, Killian thinks, and he suddenly feels a wave of gratitude toward the woman who once hired him to kill her mother.

 

Storybrooke has been calm for months – something equal parts reassuring and terrifying. The anxiety at the potential of someone terrible looming around the corner is only amplified by his daughter’s existence. Being the product of “True Love” and the child of the Savior places a target on their child, a fact impossible to ignore. In the months preceding her birth, an undercurrent of terror was always underlying the joy of Emma’s pregnancy. In the early months, before Emma’s stomach began to swell, she confessed that fear to him under the cover of their blanket and the night. He has promised then that he would never allow anything to happen to their family, and that is a promise he intends to keep. Judging by Regina’s presence in the hospital, he is not alone in his desire to protect.

 

“I never thought I’d see the Evil Queen casting wards to protect Snow White’s newest grandchild,” Killian says, his humorous tone belying whatever bite his words hold.

 

“Oh, I’m not being truly altruistic. I just don’t want to see the aftermath of whatever rampage you, Emma, and the Charmings would go on if anyone attempts to do anything to her.” Regina waves her hand in the general direction of his sleeping daughter.

 

Regina is deflecting, that much Killian knows, but he doesn’t call her on it. Gods know the art of deflection is one that he, too, has perfected over the course of a few situations. There’s a part of him that wants to thank Regina for her efforts in protecting his child, but he knows that she would deflect that as well, potentially tease him for going soft in fatherhood even. He understands. Were the roles reversed, he would probably do the same. Even now, Killian feels uncomfortable being commended for any action that falls of the spectrum of “good.” It’s not much of a leap to assume that she feels the same.

 

They’re not so dissimilar, he and the Queen.

 

They stand together in silence for a moment, both watching the sleeping infant. His daughter has no concept of how much she is loved, how many people are willing to protect and ensure her safety. Killian hopes she will someday, that she never has to doubt the depth of devotion he, her mother, and the rest of her extended (and convoluted) family tree hold for her. She will never be left alone, forgotten, or abandoned. She will always be loved and cherished. For now, though, she sleeps, blissfully unaware of all of the things that create a tumult of emotions in her father’s soul.

 

“You did well, Captain,” Regina says suddenly, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Killian has to do a double-take when he hears her words as he is too unaccustomed to receiving a compliment from the woman.

 

“Overcome with sentimentality, are we? I must admit, she’s an inspiring little thing, but the last time you were ever this kind to me, I nearly damned you all to the Underworld. Are you expecting a repeat performance, because as you can see, I’m a wee bit enamored my charming newborn,” Killian responds with a roguish grin, his own defenses rising. He, too, doesn’t like standing on unsure ground, and any compliment from Regina certainly disrupts his emotional footing.

 

He regrets it almost immediately. Not because of any hurt he might have caused Regina, because he knows he didn’t. Instead, his gaze is drawn back to the newborn asleep in the hospital bassinet. He knows she cannot hear anything through the glass, but Killian feels guilt all the same. He doesn’t want this for her, doesn’t want her to learn to shield her own feelings behind sarcasm and walls.

 

(Knowing her parents, she’s got her work cut out for her to avoid that particular set of emotional crutches.)

 

“I can say much of the same to you,” Killian says after a moment, his words both an olive branch and unstated apology. He’s never been one to openly apologize, and there’s no use now. Besides, it’s not as if Regina would accept or acknowledge one.

 

“I thought you didn’t want sentimentality?”

 

Killian shrugs. “My child has the power to not only distract those around her, but soften the hearts of the most fearsome of pirates and evilest of queens. It’s an impressive feat.”

 

“I think our hearts were already starting to soften before she came along, Guyliner, but feel free to attribute the past few years of your personal growth to a six-hour-old infant.”

 

“I told you she was impressive.” Killian says with a wry grin causing Regina to roll her eyes in response. Regina’s right that his newborn isn’t the cause for his steps to the path of light, but she’s just one more – and one very important – reason to keep fighting. Losing his family may have driven him to darkness, but finding his second family was his salvation. And this child – his and Emma’s small, beautiful, strong child – is just proof of that. His happy ending.

 

“If you think she’s impressive now, wait until it’s three in the morning and she won’t stop crying. If she’s anything like her brother, you and Emma have many sleepless nights ahead.” Regina tells him with a laugh. Judging by the tone in her voice, Killian isn’t sure if Regina finds some sort of sick joy at the thought.

 

“If she’s anything like her brother, I’d say she turned out just right.”

 

Regina doesn’t bother to hide the smile at Killian’s praise of Henry. We’re all fools for our children, Killian thinks as soft surge of pride blooms in his chest at the thought his step-son.

 

“Speaking of my son, do you know where I can find him?”

 

“Aye, he’s sprawled across the loveseat in Emma’s room. I tried to wake him, but he sleeps like the dead – and I would know.” Regina doesn’t laugh at his joke. Pity. He thinks it was quite clever.

 

“Well, I’m going to tell him I’m leaving. See if he wants to come home and sleep in a real bed.” Regina tells him.

 

“He’s not going to leave Emma.”

 

“No, I think not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t offer or say goodnight.” Regina replies with a sad sort of smile.

 

She waves her hand at him in farewell, leaving Killian standing alone by his own child. Just as she is about to turn down the hallway that leads to Emma’s hospital room, Regina looks over her shoulder to him. “Oh, and Guyliner, congratulations on finding your happy ending.”

 

“You too, Regina, you too.”


End file.
